


Unspeakably Kinky

by goat_dono



Series: Inner Worlds|Shūhei [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goat_dono/pseuds/goat_dono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akon is a bad influence on Shūhei, in many, many ways.  How one long night of Twelfth Division depravity forever altered a young Shinigami's destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gifted

The interminable graduation ceremony over, Shūhei stood apart from his classmates and professors, wondering when was the soonest time it would be polite to leave.

“Hisagi-kun.”

The brooding graduate spun around to face a familiar voice.

“Akon! Good to see you!” Shūhei clapped his friend good-naturedly on the shoulder, genuinely pleased that the busy scientist had made time to visit.

“Congratulations. You really overcame a lot of adversity to be where you are today.” 

“Yeah. Thanks. I owe a lot to you.”

“Really.” Akon was the master of deadpan.

“Yeah. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself."

Akon smiled enigmatically. “I am nothing if not a good judge of character. In any case, I want to give you a graduation present.”

Shūhei brightened. “Aww, you don't have to do that...”

“Well, of course I don't. I have an ulterior motive.”

Broadening his grin, Shūhei mocked exasperation. “As always. What is it?”

“I'd like to give you a tour of the Twelfth Division.”

Shūhei's mouth fell open.

The stuff of legend at the Shinigami Academy, the traditional induction ritual undertaken by Mayuri's new recruits was a special tour of the Division facilities — specifically, one particularly controversial department within the notoriously perverse Twelfth. Though none of the students knew exactly what this department contained or what the Tour entailed, it was rumored that whatever the recruits were exposed to was the main reason why the Twelfth Division had the lowest transfer rate in the Gotei 13, despite the horrifying sadism and bizarre behavior of their captain.

Shūhei continued to gape, wild-eyed. “I-I, uh...”

“Kurotsuchi-taichō is taking the fresh meat through this evening. Since it is obviously illegal, I'll take you alone, tonight, after they are done. Be at the gate at midnight.”

Akon turned to leave, before remembering something.

“Oh, and Hisagi-kun-”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Don't wear anything... _complicated.”_

Akon vanished in a shimmering flash step, leaving Shūhei bathed in a cold sweat.


	2. Eden

At the time, Shūhei didn't realize that standing outside the gates of the Twelfth Division at midnight was probably the most suspect and innuendo-laden activity a Shinigami could engage in. Thus, he couldn't understand why the guards were so preoccupied with leering down at him from the battlements, suggestively stage-whispering to each other. He was just about to lose his temper when the huge door finally swung open.

“Yahhō.” Akon's inexpressive visage seemed more unnerving than usual. “This way.”

Shūhei couldn't resist a glance over his shoulder as he followed Akon across the moonlit, echoing courtyard. Sure enough, the two guards were now lounging over the back wall, still watching him intently. He could have sworn that one of them licked his lips.

“What the hell? Why are those freaks eyeing me like that? They look like vultures on a mountaintop, eager to flay my corpse.”

“That's a rather apt observation, Hisagi-kun. I like your visuals. But I must say, for a journalist, you aren't very perceptive of the overarching circumstances.”

“Huh?”

“Allow me to explain. But first, a caveat. What happens in the Twelfth stays in the Twelfth. If you tell anybody about this place or this night, I will kill you — though I wouldn't waste your corpse on the birds.”

Shūhei snickered. “Kill _me?_ You're joking, right?”

“Maybe. Hardly a risk worth taking.”

“So, what do you do here that is so clandestine? Something illegal?”

“Of course not. Our current research focus is by special dispensation of the Central 46 in response to a past incident in Soul Society. That incident is considered a state secret.”

“What happened?”

“I'm absolutely _certain_ that I just said the incident is a state secret. Though I'm flattered that you seem to believe I would have knowledge of such things.”

“OK, asshole, what's your research focus, then?”

“Ahhh! Our research.” Akon's enthusiasm was not equipped with a corresponding change in facial expression. “Currently, our work is a continuation of the technological developments originally conceived by our former captain, Urahara Kisuke."

They had passed through the gates of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute and were heading toward a small building unconnected to the towering main facility.

“Do you remember when I told you why we can't produce fully functional neurological components for gigai?” 

“Yeah. You said your former captain committed treason or something, and was exiled to the human world.” Shūhei's mood ratcheted down several notches. _The real reason why I can't get a new eye,_ he recalled, bitterly.

“Correct. Urahara-taichō invented the gigai concept right after he was promoted to captain, continued his work after his exile, and perfected the production of them after only a few years of living in the Human world. The Central 46 has been desperately seeking that technology for the past hundred years.”

“So why don't they just go fetch him back and torture him until he gives it up?”

Akon was silent for a long moment, as if mentally debating.

“Because they don't know,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“The Central 46 does not know that Urahara-taichō made his breakthrough. Nor does Kurotsuchi-taichō. Or Unohana-taichō, or anybody else. Urahara is a master of secrecy.”

Shūhei stopped walking.

“So, what are you saying? That you're the—”

“Yes. Only me, and you. And the only reason _you_ know is because you got me so drunk that night. That's why you can't tell anyone.”

“But, how—”

“State secret.”

Akon smiled blandly, turned and began to walk again. Shūhei rolled his eyes and followed, unwilling to admit his confusion.

After entering the auxiliary building and clearing two automated security checkpoints, Akon escorted Shūhei into an elevator to descend several levels, stepping out into a brightly-lit but nondescript corridor.

“Due to Urahara's departure, we essentially had to start research and development over from the beginning. Before we can even consider the production of individual gigai components we have to perfect the interface that enables a soul to engage with an artificial nervous system and control a corporeal body.

“It is profoundly frustrating that the entire Institute has struggled for over a century to understand a technology that Urahara-taichō developed in a couple of years, all on his own. So, Kurotsuchi-taichō decided to adopt a novel approach in order to boost morale.”

“And that is?”

Akon stopped before a large metal door with a prominent, bold-face sign: 

RESTRICTED AREA - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

“We test mechanisms of interaction between souls and gigai from within a most _intriguing_ framework of reference.”

Akon placed his hand against an unobtrusive glowing panel and the huge door slid slowly open.

“Welcome to the Department of Neurosystemic Engineering's Sexual Physiology Lab. Also known as—” 

He paused to flip on the lights and smirk triumphantly at Shūhei's thunderstruck reaction.

_“Paradise.”_


	3. Siege

****************************************************************************************************

_I wouldn't bother with that thing.  
My guess is that touching it will just make your life even worse, somehow._

—GLaDOS, Portal

****************************************************************************************************

“This is the Gynecology and Reproduction Section,” Akon announced.

The long, windowless room looked like a cross between a medical ward and a strip club. One side was lined with bays containing examination tables, workstations and elaborate devices. The other was equipped from floor to ceiling with morgue drawers. In the center was a stage-like elevated platform upon which several anatomically-correct female gigai in various states of undress lay frozen in suggestive postures. Here and there stood portable display panels covered with video stills of Shinigami engaged in lewd acts. One particularly large panel contained a photographic study of the facial expressions of hundreds of Human women in the throes of orgasm. Every surface seemed to be cluttered with medical instruments and sex toys.

 _“Uso!”_ Shūhei gasped between shrieks of laughter. “This is your job? Fucking with sex dolls all day long?”

“Our research is valid and essential. It is supervised by Kurotsuchi-taichō, and Unohana-taichō monitors our activities for irregularities and non-compliance. The fucking is just a fringe benefit.”

Akon frowned, as Shūhei now seemed to be on the verge of suffocation.

“Also, these are not dolls. The goal here is to provide a vessel for a Shinigami soul that is absolutely indistinguishable from a living, breathing Human body. The truth is, sexual response is the most difficult neurophysiological function to accurately recreate, and thus provides the greatest learning potential. However, we are currently only authorized to use Blanks in our experiments.”

“What's a Blank?” Shūhei managed, having regained some semblance of control.

“A pre-incarnate soul awaiting transmigration into a newborn Human. They are essentially a form of concentrated psychic energy. We have special teams that enter the Dangai Precipice World to collect and store them. Generally, we use each one a few times then release it back into Dangai, to lessen the risk of an inadvertent assimilation.”

“Assimilation?”

“Yes, Blanks have no autobiographical recall, so, souls with residual Human memories are very seductive to them. The assimilation of Blanks is highly illegal, as they can instill Shinigami with powers we are not authorized to have. This is one of the things that Unohana-taichō monitors most closely.”

Shūhei abruptly became very sober. Looking around, he began to notice things that he hadn't before. High-resolution photographs of urogenital neoplasia. An autopsy slab, and a nearby door labeled CREMATORY. A collection of skeletal pelvises, neatly arranged on shelves, each accompanied by a jar containing an embalmed fetus. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“What is that _smell?”_

“Smell? Hmmm. Apparently, the lab retains a faint odor of oxidized endometrial tissue. One of my brightest assistants is studying menstrual synchrony. He gets off on that sort of thing—lactation, too. Of course, having several dozen gigai on the rag all at once is going to be a little stinky, but we've become quite desensitized to it.”

Akon ignored Shūhei's disgusted expression. “Let me show you what I'm working on right now.”

He led Shūhei to a partitioned area that seemed to be for his personal use. On one of the tables lay a tall, beautifully shaped, perfectly detailed female gigai, with its legs spread. Its skin was pale and luminous, and its head was hidden inside a cloth drawstring bag.

Shūhei sucked in a breath. “She's gorgeous.”

Akon reached down to retrieve a small black box from a recessed, vault-like cabinet under the table. “It,” he replied, sternly.

“I mean, _it's_ gorgeous. Why is its head covered?”

“Because many people find the head rather off-putting.” He untied the bag and removed it to reveal that the gigai had no face, ears or hair.

 _“Kuso,”_ Shūhei hissed, taking a giant step back.

“Trust me, you'd hate it much, much more if it had a face. Anyway, we load a Blank soul into a gigai to activate it, like this.”

Akon opened the little box and used forceps to remove a tiny glass vial, no more than a centimeter in length, that seemed to contain a dark, shimmering fluid. He carefully dropped the vial into what appeared to be the gigai's navel. Instantly, the gigai's skin flushed an alluring, rosy-golden color. Shūhei just stared.

“Don't be afraid of it, Hisagi-kun.” Akon affectionately stroked the inside of its thigh, which quivered at his touch. “It's not really alive. But watch.”

Akon reached into a tall jar and pulled out a test-tube-shaped piece of silicone rubber, which he abruptly jabbed into the gigai's vagina. The gigai flinched briefly, and Akon held up the silicone tube to reveal the cleanly severed end, reaching down with his other hand to catch the tip as it fell out.

 _“Vagina dentata._ The two female recruits who took the Tour today were quite impressed. The male, not so much. I can't imagine why. Perhaps he had a guilty conscience?”

“Akon, you are one sick fuck.” Shūhei's face was grim, all humor forgotten. This place was becoming less entertaining by the minute.

“That is incorrect, Hisagi-kun. I am a charismatic genius. But you needn't worry about vigilante amputation tonight, I've put out a completely unmodified one for you.” Akon delicately recovered the Blank and returned it to the cabinet.

“N-nani?” Shūhei said, his voice a little shrill.

“Don't be obtuse. This is what the Tour is all about.”

Akon turned to another table bearing an identical female gigai, its head also hidden. Unfortunately, it was covered with a dull gray membrane instead of realistic, synthetic skin.

Regardless, a electrifying thrill of revolted arousal flashed through Shūhei at the sight of it.

“Akon, I-I don't want to do this. I changed my mind.”

“Nonsense. You're a healthy male with a healthy male sex drive, aren't you? You told me yourself that the girls have been cool towards you since the accident.”

Akon slid the gigai down until its legs hung off the table, pulled out a pair of gynecological stirrups and lifted its heels into the cradles. Thoroughly distracted, Shūhei failed to notice that Akon hadn't loaded the gigai with a Blank.

“Go ahead, it's ready. There's lube in that jar right there.”

“Ah. . .uh. . .”

“Don't worry, it's brand new.” He prodded the gigai's hymen. “See? Can't hurt you.”

“Oh. Uh. . .”

“Would you like some privacy?”

“Um. . .uh. . .”

Akon calmly pulled the drapes around the table. “I'll be right out here.”

Shūhei blinked stupidly down at the gigai, heart hammering in his chest. He looked around suspiciously, then lay a hand on its belly. To his great surprise it was warm and soft, belying its unappealing appearance. Reaching out to the side table, he dipped a finger in the pot of lube and, after another quick look over his shoulder to be sure Akon wasn't peeking, cautiously slipped it in.

He snatched his hand back. _No way,_ he marveled. _How could it possibly feel so real?_

Slowly, he reinserted his finger and swirled it around the soft, wet heat, and his groin began aching with need.

With one last furtive glance around, he pulled open his yukata and guided himself in, wincing a little as the thin membrane gave way.

_Welcome to. . .paradise._

It was like the warmest, silkiest, most perfect pussy he'd ever imagined; he could swear it was moving, squeezing him, sucking him in as deep as he could go. His libido skyrocketed. Eagerly he hunched over the table, utterly captivated by how good this thing felt. Closing his eyes, he planted his hands on either side of the gigai's torso and began thrusting hard and fast. . .

_it was getting dark and the girl's body was beginning to stiffen; the shells were still falling nearby and a pack of depraved urchins committing atrocities was bound to attract the attention of a sniper but still they took turns, over and over again, rubbing themselves against the lifeless torso protruding from the rubble, over and over, his turn came again_

. . .until his climax exploded through him and he pulled away, panting, softening, staggering backwards to stare numbly at his semen oozing from the gigai's unresponsive orifice.

He quickly retied his yukata with trembling hands and tried to compose himself before stepping out from behind the curtain.

Akon was straddling a chair. His back was arched and he was gripping the sides of the seat, eyes half-lidded, head lolling. He seemed to be catching his breath; so obviously coming down from some state of arousal that Shūhei could do nothing but gape.

Akon exhaled a long sigh and relaxed. Reaching up, he fondled his little horns rather suggestively. He eyed Shūhei and nonchalantly lit a cigarette.

“Felt good, didn't it?”

Shūhei nodded, swallowing. “Akon, what were you doing just now?”

“You had a flashback, didn't you?”

“Nani?”

“I sensed a perceptual shift in your reiatsu. You remember things from your human life, don't you?”

“What? No! Of course not!" Shūhei flared, defensively. "Don't be stupid, and don't evade my question! _What were you doing just now?”_

“Oh, I see. You're angry. Well, that's understandable. You just had what in all likelihood was the most flawless piece of ass you've ever encountered in this life or the last, and in the throes of passion, you may have revealed a devastating little secret about yourself.

“What was I doing just now? I was flat on my back with my feet in the stirrups, getting pounded into the table. It was a bit quick, but damn good. My compliments. Now, what the fuck were you doing, Shūhei, when you blanked out a minute ago? Daydreaming? Déjà vu? Absence seizure? Or remembering something you did in the Human World?”

Shūhei was speechless, horrified.

_He was in. . .I just. . .I. . .H-he. . .He could feel. . ._

Suddenly, he found himself fighting back tears of fear and humiliation.

Akon's face slowly split into a feral grin.

“You are a very interesting subject, Hisagi-kun. Come on, the night is young and there is much more awaiting you.” He stood, nestling his hands in his wide sleeves. “Let's go see what the boys are up to, shall we?”


	4. Insight

****************************************************************************************************

_There is some fiction in your truth,  
and some truth in your fiction.  
To know the truth, you must risk everything._

—Neo, The Animatrix

****************************************************************************************************

“F-forget it,” Shūhei's voice quavered. “I'm not into this shit, Akon.” 

Akon, who had brushed purposely past him, turned and eyed him curiously.

“Look, I understand that you consider this to be a great privilege and you're risking a lot having me here—”

“Actually, Hisagi-kun, _I'm_ not risking anything. The Central 46 believes that I am capable of deciphering the secrets of gigai technology. From that standpoint, I am more valuable to Soul Society than Kurotsuchi-taichō." Akon spoke matter-of-factly, his bland voice marked by an ominous undertone. “You, on the other hand, are an inconvenient party to classified information, and no longer shielded by the jurisdiction of the Shinō Academy. Furthermore, if the powers that be find out you have past-life recall, they won't even bother to put you on trial.”

Shūhei's left hand clenched at his waist, as if bracing the sword he wasn't wearing. “I know that. I've _always_ known that. That's why I never told anybody! That's why I can't do this, Akon! What the fuck are you trying to do to me? I thought you were my friend!” 

“I am your friend, Hisagi-kun. In fact, as things currently stand, I am your _only_ friend. You think you understand the consequences of your condition, but you do not. I assure you, that if you had not been disqualified by your visual impairment, and had in fact stood for evaluation before the review board, they would almost certainly have discovered you still have Human memories, and would have had you summarily executed on the spot. That's part of their job.”

Shūhei froze, the blood draining from his face, his breathing becoming short. He fought the wave of panic and pressed a hand to the wall as vertigo sent the ground falling away from under him.

“For a Shinigami to have memory is a grave risk. You could never be trusted to carry out your duties with unquestionable impartiality. Your memories might cause you to harbor resentment or practice favoritism, or abuse your authority over the lives and souls of Men. Unlike the emotional tie indicated by a Chain of Fate, residual memory has no outward visual indicator and no means of control. Normally, the only way to get rid of it is to completely destroy the soul.

“So, Hisagi-kun, you have a rather serious problem, but I think I can help you solve it. I need more information, however. I may have to subject you to significant discomfort in order to get to the bottom of this. But, of course, you are perfectly free to decline my assistance. You're welcome to carry on trying to keep your rather tenuous secret— and your head.” 

Akon stared at Shūhei intently, watching his mind work. “So, what is your answer, Hisagi-kun? Shall we continue? Or shall I escort you out? 

Shūhei mumbled in reply, his eyes downcast.

“Speak up,” Akon prompted.

“I said, 'continue!'”

The corners of Akon's mouth rose ever so slightly. “No need to get testy, Hisagi-kun. Follow me.”

Akon led the way through a short service corridor and into another research area, similar but much smaller than the first.

“What is _this_ place?”

“This is the Andrology and Male Neurophysiology Section.”

They were passing a row of identical prototype gigai, featureless except for male genitalia. Each one was standing upright, secured by the neck inside a glass fronted case.

“No, Akon,” Shūhei hissed.

“No? No, what?”

“No, I am not going to have sex with one of those things.”

Akon shot him a look of grim amusement. “Don't jump to conclusions, Hisagi-kun. I think it's safe to say that play time is over for you for the evening. I brought you in here because I want to test your response to certain stimuli.”

“I'm not homosexual.”

“There is no such thing.”

“What?”

“In all our research, we have yet to encounter a shinigami whose sexual responsiveness was wholly or even primarily limited to one gender. It's possible that such a fixation occurs in humans, but not among us. What you perceive as your sexual orientation is just social conditioning and psycho-physiological residue from your human life.”

Akon opened a door into a large, softly-lit room, dominated by an enormous data center and a broad examination table. He gestured for Shūhei to sit in a nearby straight chair, then lit a cigarette and began to fiddle with equipment.

“These flashbacks of yours. Intense sexual arousal triggers them?”

Shūhei was startled by the directness of the question. “S-sometimes,” he stammered.

“When was the last time you had intercourse with a sentient being?”

Shūhei didn't answer.

“Well?”

“I dunno. I don't remember.”

“Why not? What happened? Did you blank out during the encounter?”

“I don't know.”

“How did your partner react to you?”

“Akon, stop it.” Shūhei slumped forward, his face in his hands.

“All right, all right.” Akon opened a cabinet and withdrew a bottle. “Here. Have a drink.” He poured a teacup half-full of sake, which Shūhei emptied in one swallow.

Akon filled the cup twice more before stepping to the side and cupping his hand under Shūhei's chin. Gently, he placed his other hand on Shūhei's brow and tilted his head back. 

“I want to take a look at this eye.”

Shūhei flinched. _“Ata!_ No, stop it!” he cried, halfheartedly trying to squirm away.

“Settle down. I'm not going to hurt you.” He brushed his thumb across the scars that had erased Shūhei's right eyebrow, and traced the line of his rigid jaw. His hands were pleasantly cool against Shūhei's skin.

“Nobody touches you anymore, do they, Hisagi-kun.”

The dull ache arising in Shūhei's scars was somehow not unpleasant. He closed his good eye and sighed. “No,” he breathed.

“That's a shame. I never saw what you looked like before the incident. But even with all this damage, you're still a very attractive man. I don't think the girls are snubbing you because of your face.”

Akon's thumb ghosted across Shūhei's lower lip, effectively distracting him while he gently lifted his right eyelid. He felt tiny muscles twitch protectively as he examined the shrunken, greyish sclera of Shūhei's sightless eye.

“Well, it seems the Academy's surgeons performed a very skillful evisceration, Hisagi-kun, but why didn't they try a graft? As I recall, you had a rather straightforward corneal laceration. Why did they take such a radical approach?”

“Because I was cut by a hollow, Akon!” Shūhei flared, becoming agitated again. “They said there was no chance of it healing properly, and they were afraid that thing's reishi would migrate to my brain if they didn't remove all the contamination. And no, I don't want to hear about what the Fourth Division could have done differently!”

“Well, presumably their over-aggressive solution was successful, as I don't sense any hollow reiatsu.”

“Yeah, they got it all, but they told me the scars will never fade.”

“Can you move it?”

“Yes.” The blank eyeball rotated smoothly to the side.

“Do you have any phantom eye symptoms?” Akon asked.

Shūhei fell silent for several seconds before answering, his voice barely audible.

“Headaches.”

“Any hallucinations? Strange dreams?”

Again, Shūhei was silent.

“Hisagi-kun—”

“No. No hallucinations.” He felt a brief stinging sensation under his eyelid and jerked his face away from Akon's hands.

“All right. I'm done.”

“It feels strange now.”

“It's fine. I want to show you something, Hisagi-kun. But I'm going to show it to you in a special way.” He took Shūhei's hand and carefully brushed it against one of the smooth, horn-like structures protruding from his forehead.

“Do you know what these are?”

“They're horns, aren't they?” Shūhei stroked one idly. For some reason, it was extremely pleasant to touch. “I thought—

“No. They are prototypical cerebral implants that re-enact sensations from accumulated reishi. They enable me to test the accuracy of the neurological impulses generated by the sensory stimuli imposed upon a gigai. 

“These two,” Akon pointed to the horns over each eyebrow, “are directly embedded into my orbitalfrontal cortices, while this one,” he touched the third protrusion, and ran his finger past it along the wide zigzagging part in his coarse, black hair, “connects subcutaneously to my left parietal and occipital lobes. I'm capable of picking up a range of bodily sensations, and monocular vision. Unfortunately, I suffered a slight brain injury from the installation, which is why I may seem a little odd at times, but that is neither here nor there.” 

Shūhei resisted an inappropriate urge to laugh.

“The clitoral tissue of the gigai you had intercourse with was neurally live, so, when it was activated by my reiratsu, these implants enabled my brain to experience the sensations generated by that tissue as if it were part of my own body.”

Shūhei winced, all amusement instantly faded.

“Oh, come on now, Hisagi-kun. Obviously, your body would not have responded objectively if you'd known what was really happening. It didn't hurt you any, and surely you must be able to see the potential benefit in this technology. Someday you might go to the Human world and have to use a gigai during your time there. Don't you like the idea of being able to interact intimately with Humans, without them ever knowing you aren't one of them?”

“How did you know I had a flashback?” Shūhei demanded, pointedly ignoring the question. 

“We don't have the ability to read thoughts or emotions,” Akon offered reassuringly, “and likely never will. But residual memories are a different matter, because they are inextricably linked to the Human world via the senses. When you remembered whatever it was that you remembered, I sensed an anomaly in your reiatsu. For a brief moment, you felt just like a Human. 

“Death is a very efficient means for dividing Humans into their mind, body and soul components. I don't know enough about Human death to determine why your mind and soul were not completely separated, and so, I can't destroy your memories without destroying you. But if I can determine exactly what triggers the anomaly that I sensed, I may be able to cloak the remnants of your Human mind with an absolute retrograde amnesia, minimizing your risk of involuntarily giving yourself away.

“As I've said, death is typically the most definitive means of eliminating memory, although, as in your case, it is not certain. But there is something else that is also quite effective. Do you know what it is?

“No.”

Akon leaned against the table and watched wisps of cigarette smoke curl lazily upward. He smiled, almost imperceptibly.

“The only non-lethal cure for residual memory,” he murmured, “is trauma.”


End file.
